


Fluorescent Adolescent

by PogueMahone



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, School Reunion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-01 11:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4017310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PogueMahone/pseuds/PogueMahone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you gonna go?” It was the first thing Sharon, Steve’s girlfriend asked when she saw the red and white invitation for his high school reunion. A lot had changed in Steve Rogers life since he graduated high school, it seemed like a life time ago.<br/>When he left Brooklyn at eighteen he never looked back, not even for the friends he left behind. Ten years later Army Captain Steve Rogers wasn’t an angry kid with a cause and bruised knuckles anymore. He was a man with a medal pinned to his chest who was disillusioned with his nation’s cause. </p><p>He prided himself on not being too sentimental but then again nothing seems as pretty as the past even if he did trade all of his naughty nights for niceness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm a Brooklyn Baby

Franklin Delano Roosevelt High School  
Class of 2005  
10 Year Reunion

Saturday, June 27th, 2015  
7:30 pm to 11:30 pm

Cougars Gymnasium  
F.D.R High School  
Brooklyn, NY

$25 per person  
R.S.V.P by June 1st, 2015  
FDRclassof05@Gmail.com 

 

“Are you gonna go?” It was the first thing Sharon, Steve’s girlfriend asked when she saw the red and white invitation tacked to his fridge by a magnet with the information for the local Veteran’s hospital on it. It was a good question, one he hadn’t put much thought into since the card came in the mail a week earlier.

Steve shrugged, “Not sure yet. I haven’t decided if I want to drive up to New York just to spend a few hours mingling with people I’ve barely thought about in nearly a decade or not.” 

A lot had changed in Steve Rogers life since he graduated high school, it seemed like a life time ago. It was hard to reconcile the skinny, angry teenager he had been with the grown man he had become. Sure he still stuck to his guns when it came to doing what he thought was right, and yeah at heart he was still a New Yorker through and through but he wasn’t some naive kid from Brooklyn who thought he could change the world anymore. 

At the age of fifteen Steve had a habit of getting into fist fights and his heart was set on staying in his home town to study fine arts at the Pratt Institute. The blonde teenager loved to draw and could spend hours painting the view of his favorite New York borough offered by his building’s rooftop. By the age of sixteen the United States had declared war on Iraq and Steve’s dreams of art school were replaced by a determination to join the Army. Who was he to sit back while others were laying down their lives in the name of American Freedom?

Steve’s mother stood firmly against the idea of her son signing up to risk life and limb for his country. The last time Sarah kissed a Rogers off to war in the Middle East he never returned. Steve was only four years old when his father died in “Operation Desert Storm,” of the First Gulf War. Although she claimed he shouldn't waist his potential as an artist he knew she feared her son would face the same fate as her husband. Eventually, after a tense junior year spent arguing over Steve’s future they came to an agreement. 

Sarah would let him join the Army under one condition; he had to apply to the military academy at West Point and the Fine Arts program at Pratt. If he got into West Point he could get an undergraduate education and when he graduated he would be commissioned as a Second Lieutenant ready for Active Duty. If he didn’t get into West Point but did get in to Pratt he agreed to go to school for at least a year and if he still wanted to enlist she would give him her blessing. 

He pretended not to notice her red rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks when she handed him an opened envelope addressed to him from The United States Military Academy at West Point. It contained a letter congratulating him on his acceptance, they were eager to see him on campus in the fall. 

The summer after high school graduation was the last time he really saw Brooklyn as home. Sarah Rogers died that winter, she contracted Bacterial Meningitis from a patient during a shift in the emergency room. She went to bed with a head ache, stiff neck and a slight fever, symptoms that were not all that uncommon after hours on her feet, especially during Cold and Flu season. When Steve went to check on her in the morning she was cold to the touch. 

After that his whole life in Brooklyn felt like salt poured into the wound sustained by her loss. Her funeral was the last time he saw any of his friends from high school in person. The angry eighteen year old who returned to West Point that January, determined to serve his nation set set his sights on earning a gold Second Lieutenant's bar and never looked back.

Ten years later Army Captain Steve Rogers wasn’t an angry kid with a cause and bruised knuckles anymore. He was a man with a medal pinned to his chest who was disillusioned with his nation’s cause, the war for freedom had long since turned into a war of supremacy that he wanted no part of. When his active duty service contract expired he opted for a desk job position at the Pentagon. It wasn’t all that exciting but in fourteen years he could retire with a great benefit package and an Army pension plus there was plenty of opportunities for promotion. 

Going to his ten year high school reunion would open a lot of wounds that he let close up a long time ago. 

“What if we make a weekend out of it?” Sharon asked. He turned away from the potatoes he was mashing for dinner to look at her curiously. “Your reunion isn’t for another two and a half months, that gives us both plenty of time to request a few days off.”  
Sharon abandoned the bowl she was washing, used for breading the chicken cutlets that were cooking in the oven. She dried her hands on a dish towel before coming to press herself up behind her boyfriend and wrap her arms around his waist. He turned so they were face to face. 

“What if we leave D.C. on Friday morning, I could book us a room somewhere nice in Manhattan? We’d get there by mid afternoon just in time for check-in, rest for a little while, and then we could go out to dinner. Saturday morning we can do some silly tourist thing or you could show me where you grew up and complain how Brooklyn has become land of the hipsters.” She offered with a smile.

This elicited a chuckle from Steve who complained for a month after the atmosphere of their favorite bar was ruined by college kids in flannel shirts and beanies who only drank craft beers. 

“What about the rest of the weekend?” Steve asked because honestly a weekend away from D.C. was starting to sound pretty good.

“Well, we could visit your mother but only if you think we are at that point. If not its okay or if you want to go alone I understandable. I know its not something you like sharing with people.” The playful tone was gone from her voice and Steve couldn’t help but notice the hopefulness in her voice. She knew visiting Sarah was a serious request that would mark a big step in their relationship. In the two years since they started dating he only mentioned his mothers death once or twice. 

Although she was the first serious relationship he had since he was eighteen sometimes he felt like he could see himself spending the rest of his life with Sharon. She was funny, beautiful, intelligent, and didn’t mind his occasionally abrasive, closed off personality. She worked for the CIA and they had a mutual understanding that, “Just another day at the office,” was code for “what I do is highly classified.” They met through her cousin Peggy, who Steve had served and became close friends with. Other times the voice in the back of his head that often told him he should have just gone to art school said he wasn’t the kind of guy who settled down with a wife. Some days it felt like he left his heart behind with the people he used to love a lifetime ago. Not that he ever voiced any of this to her. 

When he didn’t answer her right away Sharon added, “One of my friends, Carol, from college lives out on Long Island. I can take the train out to visit her. I’ll catch up with my old friends while you catch up with yours.” 

Steve said it sounded like a nice weekend and asked her to let him sleep on it. She agreed and left him to mull it over while he finished mashing the potatoes.  
Maybe, he mused, it was time for him to reconcile with that skinny kid he used to be and make peace with the way his life turned out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for stopping by.
> 
> So this it's been a while since I've written anything other than ungodly long formal research papers, please excuse me while I polish up on my creative writing skills. 
> 
> I have pretty much this whole story planned out, as of right now it is set to start and end in the present day with a trip down memory lane in between. I hope you all like angst filled teenage Steve because he should be making an appearance pretty soon. 
> 
> The title credit for the story goes to the Arctic Monkeys' song by the same name.


	2. The More Things Change the More They Stay the Same

A lot had changed about Steve Rogers in the last ten years but then again a lot had changed about Brooklyn as well. He prided him self on not getting sentimental but if he was being honest sometimes nothing seemed as pretty as the past and he highly anticipated seeing his home town again.

Steve and Sharon left D.C. around eleven o’clock in the morning and arrived at their hotel, the Hilton Midtown, just a few blocks south of Central Park around a quarter to four. 

 

The couple contemplated taking the trip on Steve’s motorcycle, the forecast predicted a clear blue sky and warm late June weather. However they ultimately decided that a two hundred and thirty mile trip for two on the back of a bike built for urban travel was probably not the best idea they’ve ever had. Instead they opted to take Sharon’s Challenger. Apparently working for the CIA justifies having a car that can hit speeds of nearly 200mph, not that Steve was complaining. 

True to their original plans they checked in, acquainted themselves with the hotel’s mattress for a few hours, then freshened up and made it just in time for their reservations at a swanky restaurant on Central Park West. It was a well spent Friday night. 

Saturday afternoon, as per Sharon’s request Steve showed her around his old stomping grounds and even managed to keep his grumbling to a minimum. The neighborhood was doing fairly well in its effort to hold out against gentrification for as long as possible. 

 

“I’m not complaining! All I’m saying is that there can’t possibly be a good reason why someone thought it was okay to replace the Castiglia’s Drug and Pharmaceutical with a Duane Reade. It was a staple in the community for generations and a perfectly good drugstore.” Steve insisted as they walked down the avenue full of shops.

“Steve, it’s just a pharmacy.” Sharon replied, amused by her boyfriend’s indignation. Sometimes he got a little riled up about things that other people would hardly care enough spare a second thought on. She found it endearing. 

For a girl who grew up in a middle class suburb full of single family home separated by neatly trimmed yards and corporate chain stores at shopping centers out of walking distance, it was hard to understand. 

Evan after spending the last five years in Washington D.C. she didn’t feel that sort of connection to the area she lived in. In the three years she lived in her apartment the only neighbor she ever got to know was Steve. Honestly even that was only because she saw him coming home from an early morning run as she was heading out to work not long after he moved in and decided she like what she saw enough to introduce herself. It sounds shallow but at a quarter to six in the morning he was a sight for sore eyes.

“There was a time where everything on this block was Mom and Pop shops. I could tell you who owned everything from the O’Dounghue’s Corner Grocery down to the Seneca’s Laundry Palace.” He exclaimed, gesturing to what looked like a connivence store in need of some fresh paint across the street. 

She sighed and was decidedly thankful as they walked past “The Koffee Kat” that it hadn’t been turned into a Starbucks, yet anyway. 

After grabbing a bite to eat at what apparently was once they spot for kids in the neighborhood to go at any given time they weren’t in school or stuck doing chores they headed back to Manhattan.

 

Before R.S.V.P.ing to his class reunion the soldier sent an e-mail inquiring if graduates were permitted to bring a plus one. They were, but as it turned out Sharon mentioned she might be in the greater New York metropolitan area to her friend Carol who then mentioned it to their friend Jessica who lived in New Jersey. Jessica mentioned it to Susan, Sharon’s roommate from Delaware who decided they all just had to get together. What started out as a possible evening catching up with one friend turned into an apartment 27B reunion. 

Sharon offered to come with him since the trip really was for his ten year reunion. While he appreciated her willingness to accompany him he insisted she go see her friends it was only fair. 

Steve had a couple of hours to get ready before heading back out the the borough they had just come from. Sharon on the other hand had a train to catch halfway across town. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to take your car? This way you don’t have to try and get back from Pen Station in the middle of the night? I can easily take the subway.” He asked. 

Sharon stopped half way through zipping up her jeans to look at him like he had just spontaneously sprouted a second head. “Why the hell would I want to do that? People on Long Island drive like assholes, I’d rather take my chances with the train. We both know I can handle my self just fine.” 

She had a point. 

 

Steve Rogers arrived at Franklin Delano Roosevelt High School just after seven forty-five. The school looked exactly the same way it did the last time he walked the halls, right down to the dented red lockers and the bulletin boards carefully put up by teachers only to be torn apart by students as they shoved their way down the crowded halls. 

When he reached the gymnasium he was met by three women sitting at a cafeteria table draped in a red cloth, full of name badges and a guest list printed off of excel, each with a bright yellow highlighter in hand. He stepped up to the least intimidating looking of the three. 

 

When she noticed him she smiled and asked, “Name?” But before he could reply she blurted, “Wait don’t tell me, I definitely know that face!” 

The brunet woman with too much pink lipstick tapped her highlighter on the table top as she tried to rack her brain. “I’m going to get this. I know I wouldn’t forget a guy like you.”  
A few more seconds passed by and she had yet to figure out who he was, “If you tell me what letter your name starts with I’ll probably remember. Jog my memory, ya know!” 

Steve really didn’t care if she remembered his name, he honestly had no idea who she was nor did he particularly care. He just wanted his name badge so he could get on with his evening but not to seem rude he played along.  
“My initials are S.R. ma’am.”

“Hey Veronica pass me the yearbook.” Pink Lips said to the curly haired blonde next to her. Once the over-glorified photo album was in her hands she flipped through its glossy pages muttering his initials under her breath as she went until she found the two page spread labeled Rabinowitz-Rydberg. After scanning the page for a moment she admitted defeat. 

With a tight lipped smile he pointed to the black and white photo of a thin, gaunt faced, sixteen- almost seventeen year old blond boy in a borrowed suit at the center of the page labeled, Steven G. Rogers. 

When you look at your self in the mirror every day its easy for all the little changes to go unnoticed, Its not as if you can go to be looking one way and wake up looking completely different the next. Change over time however, adds up no matter how subtle it may be. There were a lot of little things about his appearance that changed since the end of junior year when that photograph was taken.

 

At nearly seventeen years old Steve stood at no more than five foot six with a curved spine and weighed in at a whooping grand total of 120 pounds. His facial features were sharp on his thin, sallow face and his hollow cheeks almost distracted from his un-stylish hair that was cut by Mrs. Rogers in their bathroom. 

A week after yearbook photos were taken he underwent two relatively small surgeries for his scoliosis, followed by three months in a back brace that gave him an extra two inches to his stance. For the first half of the summer before senior year he didn’t do much of anything and gained ten pounds from eating junk food on his living room couch. For most people this would be a negative but it added just enough meat on his bones to give him a healthier look and fill in those cheeks. 

The correction to his spine not only made him taller when he stood up straight but it dramatically reduced the pain he felt from prolonged physical activity so even when his physical therapy ended he was able to keep up with doing more and more exercise each week. 

At just over eighteen years old Steve stood at five foot eight and weighed 146 pounds. His cheeks had filled in and the extra weight softened his features so they no longer looked as though they were sharp enough to slice open anyone who go too close and the muscle tone in his arms and shoulders was merely an added bonus from therapy. Mrs. Rogers did still cut his hair in the bathroom. 

 

Of course he was still the smallest guy on his floor at West Point but at least when they nicknamed him Tiny Tim for half of freshman year it didn’t sting they way it once would have. 

Throughout his time at West Point Steve grew four inches for a final high of six feet tall and after his mother died he threw himself into his physical training, pushing his body to the limits, to cope with her loss. By the time he graduated from West Point his shoulders filled out and he weighed nearly 200 pounds and put more muscle on overseas. 

He couldn’t blame Pink Lips for not recognizing him. He politely grabbed his name tag and excused himself before she had a chance to say another word.

The F.D.R alumni was surprised that the tag was anything more than one of those “HELLO MY NAME IS:” stickers with sharpie which would have sufficed just fine. The laminated paper card had his name written in bold red letters and a copy of his yearbook photo. He had a feeling Pink Lips, who's name he never did get, and Veronica had a hand in making them. 

 

The lights inside the gymnasium were switched from their usual ever so slightly green tinged fluorescents that complemented the oh so wonderful scent of teenage perspiration masked eau de cheep perfume and spray on deodorant so well, to a set of dimmer lights recessed into the high celling for special occasions. After all the gym doubled as the schools ball room. 

The gym its self was filled with round tables, decorated in red and white linens and cheep looking Class of 2005 centerpieces that could have been left over from someone’s graduation party if it weren’t for the fact there were so many of them. To distract from the fact it was a gym dozens of red and white streamers were hung with care and balloons floated above head. 

It looked exactly the same as it did for Junior Prom and suddenly he worried that his date was going to stand him up all over again. He wiped his hands which had become just a tad sweaty on his pants and straightened his tie. 

If he could face down commanding officers, Pentagon officials, and even a Senator or two then he could certainly approach the people who he once considered his closest friends in the world. That was what he was here for, to reunite with friends. 

He was starting to regret not bringing Sharon.

 

Small talk was not Steve’s strong suit it never had been and never will be. Oh sure he could fake it, put on a charming smile and nod his head in all the right places while he pretended to be interested in the weather or what ever polite topic the conversation was covering, but that didn’t change the fact he’d rather run ten miles in the desert than talk mingle. 

It really is like Junior Prom all over again he realized as he found him self gravitating towards the drink table. He had no idea where his friends went and was regretting that he came. The temporary bar staffed by what is presumably a member of the catering staff hired for the evening only had a growing line as more people arrived. 

He patiently waited on line as the bartender explained that they only served non-alcoholic beverages over and over again. People seemed to have a hard time grasping the fact that state law prohibited alcohol on the property even if none of the students were there. By the time Steve neared the front of the line the bartender was beginning to look like he himself could use a strong drink. 

 

“Maybe if we’re lucky someone will spike the punch.” The man behind him said to no one in particular. 

Steve half turned to look at his former classmate with one eyebrow raised. He was pretty sure that only ever happened in movies and said as much. 

“Well clearly you missed Senior prom, that was one crazy night.” 

Steve actually did attend Senior prom and had a great time, at least he was until he found himself out in the parking lot with a bloody nose that threatened to stain his rented blue tie. The night ended pretty quickly after that, if someone spiked the punch he was probably long gone by the time anyone felt a buzz. 

 

Steve was going to say as much but before he had the chance to open his mouth the brunet behind him must have caught sight of a friend. He turned and waved to someone in the crowd of people mingling just inside the doorway. 

Steve didn’t see who he was waving too but he assumed the conversation was over and turned to face the front of the line again.

Apparently the person the man behind him waved to had come to keep him company in the line which had adopted a snail like pace.  
“Hey Toro we were starting to wonder wh-” Whatever the newcomer was about to say to “Toro” died on his lips when he spotted Steve.  
“Holy jumpin’ Jesus Christ! Well I’ll be damned if it isn’t the one and only Stevie Rogers right here in Brooklyn.” 

Steve didn’t even have to turn around to see the cocky grin stretched across his lips or the mirthful spark in his pair of blue-grey eyes. No, Steve knew exactly who it was, there was only one person besides his mother who ever called him Stevie; Bucky Barnes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If anyone finds the format of the text tiering on their eyes let me know. I literally have no idea how to format things on this website.


	3. There is no Macaroni in Baseball! (Swing Batter Swing)

James Barnes was six and a half with a midwestern accent and a missing front tooth when he joined Ms. Malone’s first grade class three weeks into the school year.   
The young boy with brown hair and a wide smile had just moved from Indianapolis, Indiana to Brooklyn, New York after his father got a promotion that required him to work at a shinny tall building in a city even bigger than the one they came from.

By the time James was enrolled in an elementary school in New York the school year had started. While he was not too far behind in terms of learning material it was clear that he missed the window of opportunity to easily make friends. 

At lunchtime he realized that everyone already had friends and no one wanted to add the kid who talked funny to their group. He didn’t even know what the Subway was. 

James had decided by the start of his second week in Ms. Malone’s class that Stacy D. was the cutest girl in the class. She had straight brown hair that was kept out of her face by two little clips shaped like butterflies, she liked to wear dresses with flowers on them, and even had two grown-up teeth. 

Stacy sat one row over and three seats ahead of James’ own seat which gave him the opportunity to spend an ample amount of time to stare at the back of her head. It was because most of the time he was supposed to be learning about addition and subtraction staring at Stacy that he noticed the boy that sat behind her. 

Steve was the shortest kid in the class which was good because if he was any taller his head would block James’ view. 

The school yard wasn’t a very fun place for a kid who no one wanted to play with, even the play ground was marked territory. 

James was really good at the monkey bars but Jessica, Maggie, Lisa and Jennifer wouldn’t let him play because that was where they played and he wasn’t in their monkey bar club, boys weren’t allowed. 

The slide belonged Johnny, Ryan, Michael, Nicholas, and Christopher who tried to race each other up the smooth metal surface too see who could get the closest to the top. Only boys who were in group B for gym class could play on the slide, he was in group A. 

There was a bridge that connected the platform by the monkey bars to the tower at the top of the slide that Anthony, Stacy, Lauren, Matthew, Christine, Vinny, and Sean played knights and princesses on but they already had enough for one bad guy and three knights to save the three princesses. 

That left the swings. 

Mostly anyone was allowed to use the swings except for when there was a contest to see who could swing the highest. James noticed that the only person who regularly played on the swings was Steve, the short kid who sat behind Stacy. Every day Steve sat on the swings but he didn’t do much swinging. He just sat there swaying forward and back slightly while kicking the wood chips around his feet and watched the other kids play. 

After another unsuccessful attempt to use the monkey bars James decided he would just play on the swings since no one was using them, except for Steve anyway.

The brunet boy plopped down on the swing next to his classmate.  
“How come you always sit on the swing but don’t do it right?” He asked when he noticed the other boy only moved back and forth a little bit.

Steve looked at him with a frown and shrugged, “My Mom isn’t here to push me.”

When James’ Mom took them to the park she always asked if he her to push but he wasn’t a baby like his sister Rebecca, he could do it by himself. 

He didn’t think it was a good idea to tell Steve that only babies need to be pushed on the swing, his parents said he wasn’t supposed to call people names and Steve might think he was calling him a baby. Instead the he suggested the blond do it himself.

“You gotta pump your legs,” James instructed, “watch!”

The brunet grabbed a hold of the chains on either side of him and walked his legs backward. When he was far enough back he lifted his legs up and swung forward. The initial push off didn’t take him very far but it gave him enough momentum to kick his legs backward. He continued this motion, thrusting his legs out in front of him on the upswing and kicking them backwards on the downswing until he gained enough hight and speed for his liking. 

Steve tried imitating his motions but couldn’t get the timing right and had trouble getting past that first swing forward. Seeing this James dug his heels into the ground and brought himself to a stop. He watched for a moment before jumping off of his own swing and running to stand behind the other boy.

“I’ll give you pushes to start, its easier.” He offered as he grabbed the chains a few inches above where the blond’s hands were. Steve’s grip tightened and his shoulders tensed as he waited for the impact of this bigger boy trying to roughly shove him from behind. It never came, instead James walked backwards pulling the chains with him. “When I let go push your legs, okay.” 

He nodded and when James let go of the metal he gave an extra nudge to the seat beneath Steve. The smaller boy did as told and when he reached the high point of his arc the brunet called out, “Kick your legs back.”

When James was satisfied that Steve could pump his legs properly all by himself, he returned to his own swing and the two boys spent the rest of recess seeing who could go the highest. 

The next day the boys said nothing to each other and swung happily in their shared silence.

On the third day, when Ms. Malone dropped her class off for lunch, James switched sides of the lunch table so he could sit across from Steve.

“Whats a Yankee? Is it like the guy with the macaroni hat?” He asked through a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly when he noticed the blue and white shirt the boy was wearing. 

Steve frowned deeper than he had the first day on the swings. He was looking at James the same way Matthew and Nicholas had when he didn’t know what the Subway was. People did that a lot when he didn’t know things that every other kid in New York seemed to know, it wasn’t his fault Indianapolis was so different. 

“You don’t know who the Yankees are? Don’tcha have baseball where your from?” Steve asked incredulously. 

James shrugged, “We got the Colts but they play Football.” his dad never took him to a baseball game, they liked to watch the football game together on Sunday afternoon after his mom made them go to church. 

“Oh, well the Yankees are the best baseball team in America. Sometimes my mom buys me the cards if I’m really good at the doctor, I’m gonna collect all the Yankees’ ones.” Steve very seriously informed him before shoving a carrot stick in his mouth.

He listened very carefully to all the reasons why the Yankees where the best baseball team there ever was. Steve knew a lot about baseball so he must have been right. Later that day when their class had Library time he checked a book about the team out so they could look at it the next day. 

By the end of the week the two boys had claimed the swings as their recess spot. James Barnes and Steve Rogers were best friends by the end of the month. 

 

Steve was very nervous the first time his mom brought him to James’ apartment for a play date. He had been on play dates before that his mother arranged with other parents, they were okay he usually had fun playing with other kids. This was different though, this was the first time he was having a play date with his best friend, James even invited Steve over himself. 

Steve tightly hugged his binder of baseball cards to his chest as he and his climbed the tall steps so his mother could knock on the front door of the Barnes’ home. The family lived on the second and third floors of a brownstone that had been split into two apartments. The brownstone was only a few blocks away from Steve’s own home, separated by the long avenue of shops that marked the dividing line between multi-family apartment buildings and converted or single family brownstones. 

 

Steve’s anxieties over his play date with his new friend dissolved soon after Mrs. Barnes opened to door and called out to her son, letting him know his friend had arrived. 

The sound of pattering feet grew louder as James ran to the door, sliding in his socks across the wooden floor to a stop next to his mom. When his eyes landed on the dark blue binder in his guest’s arms his eyes lit up.  
“You brought your cards!” he exclaimed excitedly as he reached for his friend’s arm and pulled him inside. “Lets go look at them in my room.” James said before tearing off into the house with Steve, on spindly legs, trailing right behind him.

They ignored Mrs. Barnes order not to run in the house as they charged up the stairs and down the hall. 

The young boys played together for hours and when they heard Mrs. Rogers call up the stairs that it was time to go home neither one wanted to say goodbye. 

“I have an idea!” James said, grabbing Steve’s arm and dragging him into the hallway.

“If we hide then you won’t have to go home.” He explained as he threw open the door to the linen closet and dragged the blond in behind him. 

The closet was filled with neatly folded stacks of sheets, towels, and blankets. The space was small but there was just enough room for two children to fit under the lowest shelf, if they squeezed. 

They hid quietly, or at least as quietly as two six year olds wedged under a shelf in a dark linen closet could be. 

The pair tried to stifle their giggles as they heard Mrs. Barnes call their names, when she failed to get a response the two mothers climbed the stairs in search of their sons. Unfortunately Mrs. Barnes was quite familiar with her son’s favorite hiding spot in their new home and when his bedroom was found empty she knew to check the closet next. 

Both children stared wide-eyed with the best looks of innocence they could muster at their mothers as if they had no idea how they ended up in with the spare bedding. Sarah Rogers and Winifred Barnes knew at that moment that their boys were going to be a handful.

By the time late June rolled around and school let out for the summer Steve was a regular guest at the Barnes house. 

Since James had a stay at home mother she offered to watch him after school once a week so that he didn’t have to stay for after care or go to Mrs. Tanner’s across the hall until his mother came home from her shift at the hospital. 

It was a friday night and the first grade was finally over, the boys couldn’t be happier. 

Sarah was working an overnight shift in an attempt to save up some extra money for her son’s rapidly approaching seventh birthday. It was the first year he had a friend who he really wanted there to celebrate the day with him and she was going to try her damn hardest to make the day special.

Steve had always been a quiet child, a fearless little boy but quiet. When his father died it was a terrible blow to the small family. Sarah and her husband Joseph had virtually no extended family, when Joseph didn’t return from war Sarah and Steve were all each other had left. It was hard being a single mother with a young son, balancing long shifts at the hospital to keep a roof over their head and not missing out on watching her only child grow up right before her eyes. 

She feared he was becoming too withdrawn after Joseph died. He had trouble making friends and she knew he was lonely but he was a brave little boy who held his head high and pretended everything was fine. At his age there was a lot of things he should have been pretending to be; fine was not one of them. It broke her heart. 

She had hoped that after a year in elementary school under his belt that Steve would have better luck making friends in his first grade class than he did in Kindergarten. However when mid September rolled around and she received a note from Ms. Malone, expressing her concerns over the fact he didn’t play with the other children her hopes were dashed.   
So when she picked her little boy up from aftercare and asked him how his day went on the walk home she was ecstatic to hear all he had to say about the new boy who just joined the class. 

_“We have a new boy in the class and his name is James and he’s from Indy-an-apples. We go on the swings together and he showed me how to pump my legs so I can swing real high. He gave me a push on the swing but not hard, it didn’t even hurt. And guess what Mommy, he didn’t know who the Yankees are! Can you believe it Mommy, the Yankees! I told him all about the Yankees and then at library he got a book about them and said we can look at it together!”_

James Barnes was a bit of rowdy child with way more energy than Sarah was used to but and Steve played well together. She found his outgoing personality and loud voice, often accompanied by wildly gesturing hands, to be endearing. Even if she had to keep anything breakable out of arms reach when he came over.

James was endearing but his mother Winifred was a godsend. Apparently her husband, George, like Joseph, fought in the Gulf War and her older brother had died in Vietnam, the couple knew how hard it was to lose someone overseas and sympathized with the single mother. 

Winifred offered to watch Steve at least once a week and when Sara worried that she was sending her boy over to the Barnes’ too much, Winifred assured her that her son was a pleasure to have and kept James from terrorizing his little sister. Really, she insisted, Sarah was the one doing her the favor. 

 

She hated the thought of having to leave her son at someone else’s home overnight so that she could work but sleepovers had become a semi-regular occurrence on weekends during the school year. Sarah had hosted James the last time and since Steve had stayed over his house several times before she felt no guilt when she kissed her son goodbye and reminded him to behave before heading in for an overnight shift. Baseball tickets didn't come cheap, she had to get the money somewhere.

As far as Sarah’s son knew he was just having a sleepover with his best friend to celebrate the first weekend of the summer. 

That night, after going out for pizza and to the movie theater to see The Lion King, the boys settled down in their sleeping bags on the living room floor for the night. 

James rolled onto his side so he could face his friend and whispered “Stevie,” into the dark. When the other boy didn’t respond he tried again, smiling when the blond propped himself up on his elbow to look at him. When Steve didn’t say anything he continued, “We’re gonna be best friends forever right?” 

Steve thought about all the times they played on the swings at recess and how they both thought the Red Sox were the worst team to ever step onto a baseball diamond because they were Yankees fans. Everyone knows that if you are a Yankee fan you hate the Red Sox. 

He thought about how even after Johnny said James could play with them he but Steve couldn’t he chose to stay with Steve. He didn’t even mind sharing his good colored pencils with James. He thought about playing on the swings, eating lunch, hating the Red sox, having sleepovers, and sharing colored pencils with someone else; it didn’t sound half as fun.

Steve, after a moment of deliberation nodded before promising they always would be best friends, forever.


End file.
